


Certain Values of Immortality

by Asuka Kureru (Askerian)



Category: Magic Kaitou, Meitantei Conan | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Fatherhood, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/pseuds/Asuka%20Kureru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I have to admit, Tantei,' says Kid, 'when I handed you Pandora back I wasn't trying to trap you into making a honest man out of me.' </p><p>For an old Baby Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Change of Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Some time ago I did a baby meme - asked people to give me two characters and I'd give them their children, in the form of a ficlet. Straight couples, gay couples, adoption, mpreg, illegal cloning - they didn't even have to be a couple. (the results were hilariously random.) In this fic Kaito and Conan aren't a couple. Gen, preslash? Either way works. 
> 
> The first chapter works as a oneshot, and the following two are more sequel oneshots than chapters. I'm not going to write more, but Joisbishmyoga has written a series of ficlets about the kid once he's a bit older that's a ton of fun.

It's a good thing his brand of crazy isn't all that interested in immortality. (Where's the breathless exhilaration of taking insane risks if you already know you're going to be fine, no matter what? Takes all the fun out of it.) It's a good thing he didn't want Pandora as anything but bait, and to keep it out of worse hands, because he'd have felt gypped. 

Not that the gem doesn't do exactly as advertised on the can -- for certain values of immortality.

Kid stares down at the teenage boy who sits stunned on the roof, legs spread out in front of him. Conan always looks thirteen going on thirty to him, but today he looks eleven at best, not even the age of his body. It's the shock.

He guesses it's not everyday you catch up to a criminal you've been hunting for five years -- one last glorious chase, as all around the world assault teams tear into an empire that cost you your old life -- (cost him his father) -- only to...

"I have to admit, Tantei-kun," says Kid, "when I handed you the gem back I wasn't trying to trap you into making a honest man out of me."

"There's no gem on Earth that could do that, anyway," Conan replies, but his faint voice says he's not really paying attention to the words, or to the thief who stands only two steps away.

Of the two of them, Kid is more disposed to believe in magic, but even if Conan was prone to dismissing the testimony of his own two eyes...

Nothing happened when Kid was handling the gem alone. Only when he passed it, and for a fraction of second there were two hands on it.

No amount of denial ever stopped Tantei-kun from reaching a logical conclusion.

The toddler asleep in Conan's lap has Conan's cowlick and Kaito's purple irises, when he cracks his eyes open, and there's no denying how familiar his round little face is going to be when he grows up. Kid can see Conan swallowing.

He hears the quiet shuffle of feet on the fire escape and he's pulling Conan and his armful up before he's even thought twice, whisks them away in his cape, herds them to the air vent -- an emergency exit he hadn't let himself consider, earlier on, when this was still supposed to be his last performance. He falls backward into the darkness, holding Conan to his chest. Conan's eyes are wide and glittering behind his glasses, but he doesn't make a sound as they fall, or when Kid's hooks engage and they come to a somewhat abrupt stop, right in the middle of the vertical shaft.

Kid shuffles around a bit, so that his back is pressed tight against one wall and his feet on the other, and he smiles his most pleasant smile at the not-a-boy sitting on his lap over forty more feet of void.

"Sorry. Reflex."

"I'm sure," Conan replies dryly, not impressed at all.

Kid can't help grinning, very pleased. Conan's going to make an awesome co-parent. 

An awesome...

"...Kid?"

"Yes, Tantei-kun?"

The detective frowns at him, and visibly wants to peer closer, but that would put him under the shadow of the hat and ... and.

"Are you... alright?"

Oh gods and goddesses and ancestors and anyone who'd ever listen. He's got a son.

It's a sort of poetic ending, he supposes; the day he lays his father's ghost to rest, he becomes a father as well.

"I might be in the first stage of a freak-out of epic proportions," he admits, aware that his smile quirks oddly and unable to fix it. 

"What took you so long?" Conan replies with a disbelieving chuff, not even really laughter. "I was here two minutes ago."

The child blinks his eyes open again, examines Conan's face -- it's the closest -- and then Kid's. 

Then of course he goes straight for the brim of his hat with curious hands.

Conan is the one who reaches for that tiny hand and tries to draw it back. Kid takes in a shuddering breath.

"Let him. It's okay." He laughs a little at Conan's incredulous stare. "You were going to see me today anyway. Just -- for a different occasion."

Conan is grave when he reaches out to take off the top hat, careful. He hands it to the toddler, who makes a pleased gargly sound and starts tapping his hands on top like a drum.

"Yes. It's my real face."

"Huh," says Conan, and _there_ is his little thirty-year-old. Kid chuckles.

He doesn't do it long. People are gathering on the rooftop. Someone shines a light down the shaft. Kid and his passengers are far down enough that even wearing white, they won't be immediately noticeable, but the sound of their voices is going to travel up. Conan realizes at the same time he does -- they need to sort this out, fast.

But Conan is smart. He'll have reached the same conclusion as Kid, and possibly sooner. For a second Kid is afraid, because there's another solution -- Child Services, adoption.

"You can't be caught here," Conan says, and Kid almost sends them to their deaths when his legs briefly go limp with relief.

Conan and his thirteen official years can't keep the child. Kid -- _Kaito_ \-- can. He turned twenty-three a month ago, and forgery is easy.

"My name's Kaito," he says, trading Conan the child for the handle of his grappling hook. "Kuroba Kaito."

Conan lets out a longsuffering sigh, though the corner of his lips is quirking up into a faint smirk. "Nice meeting you." A pause, as Conan braces himself. "I'm Kudo Shin'ichi."

Aha. Not that he didn't strongly suspect, but it's so nice being proven right. He grins, white teeth shining in the dark.

"Been a while since I said that," Shin'ichi mutters to himself, and then attempts to glare. "Anyway. If you steal anything ever again--"

"This Kid has once and for all been taken off the streets," Kaito assures him, securing the child inside his jacket and clipping on a few more cradling straps to his flight harness. The baby is starting to wriggle, unhappy at being confined.

They exchange a last look. There's so many things they should likely talk about, most of them translatable to 'what the hell do we think we're doing.' No time, though. He can hear Nakamori yell something about a floodlight and air duct blueprints, and his calves are killing him.

He takes a deep breath, steals a glance at the fuzzy-haired little head against his chest. His silk shirt is going damp where the baby chews on.

Alright. Extract self and package first. Freak out later. He can do that.

"See you tomorrow, Shin'ichi."

Kaito drops out from under him, into the dark, holding tight onto his change of plans.


	2. Bedtime Stories

At least the baby was weaned.

Sort of. Probably.

Well, he wasn't complaining about the oatmeal yet. Or projectile vomiting. He'd proved he had a healthy set of lungs earlier in the morning when Kaito tried to put him down for a nap, and then had fallen asleep anyway. After that Kaito went to silently race around the house, looking for potential baby clothes his mom would have stored away somewhere, finding what he hoped would be appropriate food, making lists of all the stuff he'd need to buy, bombarding his mom with highly cryptic demands for assistance, and generally thriving on the edge of his own very motivating panic.

Now he was mostly waiting for his surprise offspring's other father to be done with junior high school for the day, which wouldn't be for another four hours.

Kaito had four whole hours left. Surely that was long enough to start cleaning out the Kid lair. Make it into another bedroom, maybe. Get rid of all the useless stuff inside. All the gadgets. The newspaper clippings. The gemology reference books. The friggin' _car_.

His father's white suits and spare top hats.

Wasn't like there was any reason to keep them anymore, and he was done with that stuff anyway, wasn't he?

He stayed in his exhausted sprawl against the couch. The ceiling was incredibly fascinating today.

Besides if he moved away the kid might roll -- upslope, somehow -- on the cushions and land on the ... very thick futon Kaito had placed on the floor. And a master thief would likely be totally unable to move a sleeping baby from the couch to the futon itself, oh, maybe twenty inches apart. And, and, _shit_ , he just didn't want to do it.

It wasn't his ability to move that was in question.

Every time he started to imagine cleaning the Kid lair his mind shied away. He should do it, shouldn't he? Wouldn't it be appropriate?

Would his mom he angry? As far as he knew she hadn't touched the room since he started to use it, and likely before then -- the thick layer of dust had been undisturbed. Maybe she'd want to keep it as it was, a preserved memory.

But his father's legacy had done its job, and it was... it was time to... He gritted his teeth, glared at the ceiling. Lying to people was fine, but coddling himself? It just made him mad at himself.

The root of the problem was that as long as he was Kid, even though it was for revenge, his father was still, in a way, there. Being imprisoned and condemned as Kid would have ended _Kaito's_ life, but Kid the Phantom Thief would still have been there, even caught. Would have been preserved. Pinned like a magnificent -- if dead -- butterfly.

But he was alive and his father was dead and Kid was over. He had to say goodbye again -- goodbye for _good_ , this time -- and he didn't want to.

Someone knocked brisk and loud at the door.

He wasn't expecting anyone but Conan and the sound came from too high up for the runty thirteen-year-old he was. Kaito was moving in the next second, swinging the baby up. If the person at the door was Black Organization, escaped from yesterday's massive takedown... The thought sent adrenaline rushing in his blood like a lightning bolt.

Kaito was at the closest secret panel that led to his father's hideout in maybe two seconds, if that much. The baby blinked at him as he swung him down on the floor. There were tools and parts in there, potential accidents everywhere, but the baby might actually not get into any trouble, or at worse get a couple of scrapes. Greeting Black Org with a baby in his arms would only guarantee to get them both killed.

Another three knocks rang as Kaito was swinging the panel closed, sharp and precisely spaced out. He breathed out and sagged briefly, tension flowing away.

Hakuba.

The baby was starting to fuss; things had gone so fast he seemed to still be processing the sudden movement, but from the way his little face scrunched up he was going to make his displeasure known shortly. Kaito made an executive decision and took him back. Then he closed the panel.

By the time he checked the door -- it really was Hakuba, pastel-green tie and all -- and opened, the baby was howling shrill displeasure in his ear. Hakuba stared at the both of them, dumbstruck as Kaito had never seen him.

"Shh, shh, stop crying -- hey there, Hakuba-kun."

Hakuba wrestled his expression back under control, though his eyebrows stayed arched a bit too high for the cultured confusion he was shooting for. "Kuroba-kun. ...I don't know why you catching me by surprise is still a surprise after all this time."

Kaito laughed and stepped back to allow him in. "What brings you?" he asked over the baby's cries, and used him as a cover to quickly scan the room for incriminating evidence.

He pretended he couldn't feel Hakuba's sharp, watchful look, patted the baby's back and swung him a bit too fast, prompting another round of howling. Hakuba winced slightly and leaned down to switch his shoes for guest slippers, but the area was narrow and a surprise burst of movement from the baby ended up with Hakuba getting kicked in the side of the head.

"Whoa there, Mister Crankypants." He inspected the baby's foot -- it wasn't hard enough to dent Hakuba's head, more like the other way around -- and got his nose batted at with tiny kitten-sharp nails. "Ow. Alright, I need to put him down, come on."

Hakuba followed him to the coffee table without a word, settled in the armchair without looking away. Kaito was used to the scrutiny, and pretended he didn't notice.

"Want a drink?"

"Please don't bother yourself on my account. You seem overworked already."

The look he sent the wriggling, whimpering child in his arms was full of questions, but Kaito asked his own question first. "So what are you doing here?" He perched on the arm of the couch, rubbing the baby's back.

"Ah. Well." A long sigh, a longer look, that seemed to be trying to read him down to his component molecules. "Aoko-kun called me yesterday night. You weren't home, though."

"... Oh."

"I have to admit," he said, voice cautious, "I had my own hypothesis as to..." A pregnant pause followed, which Kaito filled with 'where you were,' and then Hakuba continued, "why you would send... hm... Does it count as a break-up letter when you weren't dating at the time?"

Kaito let out a little humorless laugh. "We've been on and off so much, I think it does."

None of their previous offs had felt like 'not dating', not really, just 'be right back, taking a coffee break'. But this letter... Clean break, clean goodbye -- not a breathing pause but an ending, none of that 'you get on my nerves but when you're gone I miss you', 'I want to let you in but if I really gave in and told you all I'm hiding from you, you would be the one to leave me' dance they'd danced since high school.

He'd kind of assumed he would be in prison by the time she received it. Instead here he stood, home and still free, and for a fleeting moment he wondered whether he could still take it back.

Except that there was only one other explanation for that breakup letter he could use now, if he wanted to stay free to raise his child, and it barred the way back to her just as thoroughly.

"Yesterday evening. Well." He smiled, not very sincerely. "I was meeting with this guy's other parent."

You could say a lot of things about Hakuba -- that he was stiff, arrogant, pompous -- but slow-witted wasn't on the list. "His other -- _you're_ \--"

"Yep. Turns out I'm a father."

Hakuba stared at the child fussing in Kaito's arms, who resembled him as much as a one-year-old could possibly resemble an adult. There was no denying it.

"Single father, now," Kaito specified, voice a little too forcibly casual, and felt a little sick at using his reaction to the thought of what the news would do to Aoko to make it seem more believable. Didn't seem like he could ever stop lying to her in some way.

"What happened?" Hakuba asked, frowning.

Kaito looked down at the child and tried to distract him from his snuffling, tickling his cheeks and making little soothing noises. "What usually happens in those cases?" Damn it, Hakuba, he thought, stop looking for the story and just accept that I cheated on Aoko and that's it.

"You didn't date other people during your breaks. You said you were too busy."

Shit. Freaky detective memory. He looked away. "One-night-stands don't take long."

"You do realize I've long since learned to notice your evasions, yes?"

Aw damn it. He just had to push _now_ , after bringing up all that emotional baggage Kaito had decided to put behind him. "What kind of hidden truth do you want there to be in _this_?" he demanded, unable to hide his frustration, gesturing to cover the child, the baby bottles, the explosion of papers on the coffee table, the futon stuck between it and the couch.

Hakuba looked, slow and thoughtful, and then he smiled, just a small, wry twist of the lips.

"That birth certificate has no first name on it."

Shit.

"And the ink doesn't look quite dry."

Goddamnit. Groaning, he flopped backward into the couch. The baby squeaked in surprise at the change of position; Kaito rubbed his back to settle him down, or try to. He really wasn't at the top of his game today. He could just imagine Conan rolling his eyes at him.

Anything -- anything at all -- that might be used to take away custody of his son wasn't going to pass his lips, it didn't matter that he couldn't imagine Hakuba deliberately doing that to him. He stayed stubbornly silent, eyes drilling metaphoric holes in the ceiling.

"I believe you."

Kaito threw him a sharp look.

"But there's more to this than you're saying."

He wasn't going to drop it. Kaito considered telling him the truth. Pandora? No, if the existence of magic had broken Conan's brain, it might pulverize Hakuba's, and Conan had been therefor its biggest magic trick. (He gave the baby a squeeze, a light one even though he wanted to hug tighter.) But the rest...

There had to be members of Black Organization left out there, it wasn't possible that they'd all been caught or even identified yet. And while he was sure Conan would stay on top of the investigation, it wasn't bad to have several potential sources of information, and...

"I just want to know why," Hakuba said quietly.

... and he was thinking about using his feeling to manipulate someone again.

In his strange, 'I _will_ catch you and root out all your secrets' way, Hakuba was a friend. Kaito was tired of lying to his friends. That was supposed to be over.

Every step of the way to becoming the Kaitou Kid, he had embraced, loved even, but in the process Kuroba Kaito had turned into someone the Kid didn't like very much.

"Once upon a time," he told the baby, who stared back at him and attempted to steal his nose. He smiled against the tiny hand and its kitten-claw nails, pressed a kiss to the soft palm. "There was... hm. A magpie. The strongest, bravest, most daring magpie who ever flew. ... It liked shiny things. Hey, it was a magpie after all. They're like that."

Hakuba's back straightened as he came to attention like a hunting dog.

"Then black boars came tromping through the forest with their big hooves, and they couldn't fly in the air like the magpie did. They were big and heavy, and kind of ugly, to be truthful. But they wanted shiny things too, so they told the magpie, get us this shiny thing, right there at the top of the tree!

"The magpie said no, because it only flew for itself, and while it was happy that its baby chick and the neighboring squirrels liked watching its barrel rolls and figure-eights, that wasn't the same at all.

"So they had it for dinner."

His eyes stung. He made himself smile.

"But they still didn't have the shiny thing they wanted so much, and that was only what they deserved. And when the chick grew up and put on its plumage de soirée, oh, those silly boars, they didn't know that was just the colors magpies came in. What happened? they asked. But it was so yummy in our tummies."

The baby was drooling on him, gumming on his shirt. He laughed under his breath, past the knot in his throat.

"Give us the shiny, magpie! they said, but the magpie knew they had e-eaten --" Aw, shit. Not _now_ \--

"Eaten the father magpie," Hakuba continued, softly, cautiously.

"So the baby magpie knew better than to give them any shiny," Kaito said, his voice wrestled back under control. "And he flew and he flew, through the forest and through the field and through the night, and right to the big city. He knew they'd follow him anyway, because they were stubborn and silly, and whaddya know, humans have the best shinies. But humans also have hunters, with big, big rifles, and now it just so happens humans also have themselves some tasty boar pies."

There was a long stretch of silence.

"Did you like my story, Hakuba-kun? I know he doesn't understand yet, but I thought I should practice."

"It was... instructive."

Hakuba gave a sudden, decisive nod and got up. Kaito pushed himself up on an elbow to watch him, startled.

"I would share a story of my own, but sadly all I have to offer is a long, boring ramble about my latest case... Though by tomorrow we should have enough new information to plug some plot-holes and untangle it into a proper narrative. Perhaps you'd like to listen to it, if you're not too busy."

"Ah. Sure," he managed somehow. That was it? No more questions? No 'and where does the baby come from, then?' No 'That's nice and touching but magpies simply don't stop stealing anymore than they stop flying'? "If we time it with one of his naps, that should be fine."

"I'll use one of my breaks to come back tomorrow, then. No, don't get up, I'll show myself out."

Kaito blinked at the ceiling, caught flatfooted. 'On one of my breaks' meant 'off the clock' meant 'off the record' meant 'not as a detective.'

"Ah... By the way -- I am still noticing your evasions." Hakuba threw him a faint smirk from the door, but one that seemed almost to include him in the mocking, instead of as a defensive wall. "Well, then, Kuroba-kun... Egg-kun."

He left, closing the door behind him with a little nodding salute. Kaito stayed on the couch for another minute or two before he could make himself move.

He swung his legs to the floor until he was sitting more or less properly. Stared down at the child, who was fussing again, the squirmy little beast.

An egg, huh.

His own baby magpie. He chuckled under his breath, pressed a kiss to soft, dark hair.

His father was still gone. He'd never meet his grandson.

His father had a grandson even so. Kaito would have to teach the kid that. Tell him about Kuroba Toichi. Toichi's legacy.

He hadn't cried since the funeral, not in however many years it had been (fifteen years, three months, four days), but now he laid back down on the couch and cried for the father he was laying to rest again -- for good -- let it all go in big, racking sobs.

Then the baby peed on him, and he laughed in between tears and got back up to live again.


	3. Names

Kaito was poring over his third attempt at a fake birth certificate when someone knocked at the front door. He abandoned the paper and drying ink and started for the door -- then skidded to a stop, turned on his heels, and went to pick up the baby currently crawling on the living room carpet. The baby, seeing him coming, of course did his squirmy little best to disappear under the coffee table. The knock rang again as Kaito was attempting to extricate him without bringing the table along.

"Coming!" he called out, swinging the child up in his arms. Peals of baby laughter rose. Kaito couldn't help laughing along as he jogged to the front door.

"Well, I see you're having fun," Conan commented dryly when he opened it.

Kaito grinned and waved him in, closing the door behind him. "I'm so proud. He's a budding escape artist."

"Of _course_ he would be," Conan replied tiredly as he exchanged his shoes for the guests slippers -- a little more tiredly than the rather unoriginal quip warranted. Kaito peered at him more closely.

"Tantei-kun?"

Conan waved it off, sighing, and followed him into the living room. "Nothing. Just... Long night."

Kaito could imagine that. Post-heist debriefings already took a while on normal days (he'd attended one or two, just to see -- the coffee was good, but it didn't feel sporting to listen to all those "next time let's do it like that instead",) but the Kid Task Force had no doubt shared all the new info they'd uncovered in that last chase with the massive takedown Interpol was leading on Black Org at some point. Interdepartmental investigations being what they were, it must have taken until early morning to coordinate. And Edogawa Conan was involved with both sides of the investigation.

"And after that I went to school."

Ouch.

Conan looked up at Kaito's face, staring just a bit -- likely cataloguing the differences he'd only gotten glimpses of in the shadows of that air shaft. Kaito couldn't help but notice the way his gaze kept skidding to the side, though. Chuckling, he bumped his hip into the detective's side, and, before a flailing Conan could get up from the armchair he'd landed on, dumped the baby on his lap.

The baby blinked wide indigo eyes at him. Conan gulped and blinked back.

The baby promptly went for his glasses, a stream of nonsensical-but-happy babble running out of his mouth. Busy trying to make sure the baby didn't pitch off his lap, Conan didn't dare spare a hand to stop him. Kaito cautiously reached out and took the black frames off Conan's face for him.

They stared at each other for another second, Kaito still smiling faintly, Conan tense, almost frazzled.

"We've got to talk," Conan eventually said, and closed his eyes as the baby patted his face with tiny squishy hands.

Kaito made a noise of agreement. "About lots of things. What's going to happen in the future..."

Conan nodded tightly.

"But I think that first we need to talk about the recent past." A pause, as Kaito perched on the edge of the coffee table, Conan's glasses still cradled in his hand. "What's wrong, Tantei-kun?"

He got a quick glare for answer. "Do you want the long list, or the _really_ long list?"

... Okay, he'd deserved that one. "Let's go in order of immediate relevance," he replied, just a little sheepish under his smile.

Conan let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Immediate -- alright. How can you be so -- so _calm_ about it? The baby?"

Kaito scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "I had all day to freak out. I suspect you were too busy to indulge."

Conan speared him with a sharp, calculating look. "I was. But while suddenly finding myself a father is already --" a pause, as he bit back a word to switch it for another, " _disconcerting_ , I can't help but feel that we still didn't freak out over the same things. So I wonder, Kid."

Kaito hadn't expected it to twinge a little weird, to be called Kid in his own home, wearing his own face -- like an accusation. But he couldn't make himself call him Shinichi either. He shrugged, leaned back, smile cooling, and he went "Hm?" even though he had a fairly good guess what Conan was getting at.

"What happened," Conan said. "It was _impossible_."

Kaito shrugged. "Happened anyway."

"We saw a child -- a brand-new, living human being -- being _created_ out of _thin air_." It felt as if Conan would have stood up to pace around the room if the same brand-new human being hadn't been in his lap, weighing him down. "Oh, wait, not air -- out of a _gemstone_." He glared down at the dark-haired little head that dared to flaunt his logic. "Doesn't seem mineral to me."

Apparently bored, the baby wriggled unhappily and attempted to ooze off his lap; Conan's thwarted annoyance morphed into alarm. Kaito quickly leaned forward to pick up the kid and put him safely down on the carpet, though he left a hand on his head to make sure he didn't bump it into the edge of the coffee table.

Conan stared at Kaito's hand curled on that small head, and for a fraction of second the frustrated irritation on his face flickered into lost, exhausted confusion. Kaito looked away. He had a feeling Conan hadn't meant to drop his mask like that.

"If it's impossible, but it happened, then it isn't impossible," Conan said, voice strangely quiet, as he watched the child explore colored lines in the carpet with vigorous pats. "But it defies all logic and science I've ever known. It makes it all fake."

"It doesn't," Kaito interjected, but Conan wasn't about to be interrupted just yet.

"What's more, it makes all of my deductions based on _faulty premises_."

... And that, apparently, he took as a personal affront. Kaito was torn between amusement and sympathy. "Not necessarily so. Magic--"

Conan flinched at the word, though really they'd been dancing around it anyway. Pretending that this wasn't exactly what they were talking about wasn't going to help.

"Magic's more of the exception that proves the rule. I don't think you've run into a lot of cases where it would have been relevant."

"But even exceptions have rules of their own to follow. And _I don't know them_."

He lifted his head to stare at Kaito, straight into his eyes. Kaito stared back, fascinated despite himself by his sheer intensity.

"Teach me."

Kaito blinked. "Uh. What?"

Conan huffed and glared harder. "You were surprised at what the gem _did_. Not at the fact that a hunk of rock _could_ do something. And you're the one calling yourself a magician, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but --" Kaito raked a hand through his hair, sighed. Conan was so stubborn. "It's all stage magic. I've seen the other kind of magic used, but I never did any myself. Never needed it." Conan's disbelieving look made him huff out and -- well, not pout, he didn't pout. Or sulk, either. Hrrn. He crossed his arms, lifted his chin, glowered. "Come on, Mr. Critic, you always have such a grand time taking my tricks apart, surely you know that."

"But you -- _huh_."

The strangest look crossed his face. Kaito's brow furrowed. "Huh what?"

"... Alright. Do you know someone else who could teach me, then?"

The Kaitou Kid had been hunted by Detective Edogawa (né Kudo) for the last seven years, and one thing he did know about him by now was that Conan did _not_ let go of a line of inquiry he had sunk his teeth into, not until it was bled dry. He gave him a puzzled look, brow furrowed. "Now what did that mean?"

"That I want someone to teach me." Conan crossed his arms, determined. "Not to actually do magic, mind. I just want to understand the rules."

Kaito was still deliberating whether or not to push for a real answer instead of an evasion when a pile of books crashed to the ground behind him. He was on his knees beside the baby in the next second. The baby looked up at him with a confused little face and then started making alarming snuffling noises.

"Oh no. No, don't cry, come on, it's alright -- they didn't fall on you, did they? You're never going to be a good phantom thief if you get scared of loud noises, you know."

"Hey," Conan protested.

"... Or a good detective either. There, that's a good boy." He climbed back up on his feet, cradling the child against his chest. "Which reminds me, we really need a name for him, because I don't think 'hey you' will work on the official paperwork."

Conan sighed and padded to them to peer at the sniffling baby. He distracted him from his fright with a cautious -- _very_ cautious -- little tickle to his cheek. Kaito tried not to smile and failed. Cute.

"Believe it or not, this is one of the issues I didn't fret over much. They're at least easily solvable."

"Yeah," Kaito answered blithely, "we just have to agree on something."

"... I take it back. I'm worrying now."

Kaito laughed, though he'd baited Conan hoping for exactly that answer. Conan gave a wry, knowing smirk, and followed when Kaito sank into the couch, the detective perching at the edge of the cushion to watch the two of them.

Out of all co-parents he could have been saddled with, Kaito was really glad he'd gotten Conan. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like if the child was half-Shiratori, or half-Nakamori-keibu...

"Alright, what's so funny?"

"Baby mustache," he snickered between two guffaws.

Conan looked sorry he had asked. " _Never_ mind. Before we dive headfirst in baby naming books, there's the previous issue..."

Kaito sobered up. Conan was no fun.

Then again if he thought too much about making a child with Nakamori-keibu, one who'd be Aoko's half-brother, he'd start thinking about how he was never going to have one with Aoko herself either way, and that -- yeah. Change of topic. Good idea.

He capitulated. "Yeah, yeah, I know someone. I'll give her a call, see what she says. But fair warning, she's... just don't piss her off, okay?"

Introducing Conan to Akako. Ancestors above, but this had the potential of erasing Japan from the map. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Good," muttered Conan as he leaned back into the cushions. "One worry I can strike off the immediate list. Next item..."

Kaito nudged him with his knee. "Anyone tell you that you worry too much?"

"It's called 'planning' and 'being ready'. Don't tell me you don't know what that is. The way your heists go, I wouldn't believe you."

"Sure, but there's planning time, and then there's improvisation time." A pause. "I do like improvisation time."

Conan nudged him back, not too gently. "Yeah, and that time isn't now." He cautiously touched the child's head, smoothing down wisps of dark hair. "How old is he supposed to be, anyway?"

"No idea. Almost verbal, but that covers a lot of ground -- he could be nine months old or he could be fourteen. Not walking yet, but he'll grab your fingers and toddle along for a little bit..."

"And that doesn't help either." Conan's brow furrowed in thought. "I'm sure they have graphs online, we should be able to narrow it down. Infant milestones, height-weight charts..."

"Or we could just decide that yesterday was his first birthday." Kaito chuckled at Conan's mildly offended look. What, not research it to death first? Gasp. "He _could_ be one year old, and if he doesn't fit perfectly in the population average, all the better."

"Fine, fine." Conan sighed. "Back to the name issue..."

"Well. He'll be a Kuroba -- pretty much has to be, I don't know how I'd explain him being a Kudo or an Edogawa. So... You can choose the first name," Kaito said, with great magnanimity.

Conan grumbled. "You just can't think of anything on your own."

"Hey, it's a heavy burden, okay? Could influence his whole life. Unlike his birth date."

"I'm surprised you don't believe in astrology."

Kaito coughed in his fist. "... Besides yesterday was an auspicious day anyway."

"Hah!"

The baby threw his hands in the air at Conan's vindicated exclamation. Kaito burst out laughing. The baby trilled out a laugh of his own. He was starting to bounce on his lap, suddenly excited and wriggly, making even Conan chuckle.

"He's going to be a handful. I don't feel so bad anymore about letting you go," Conan said, wry and amused. "Looks like he'll keep you too busy to steal so much as a minute for yourself."

Kaito's sidelong glare only made him smirk wider.

"Anyway. His name."

Conan paused there, sobering up, and Kaito watched him with an eyebrow arched, waiting for an explanation.

"...What was the first Kid's name?"

"Ah." Kaito had to look away for a minute. Crazy as it was -- he'd been eight year old back then; he was twenty-three -- reminders still had a way of catching him under the ribs like a good sucker punch.

Naming his son for his father, even partly -- yes. He wanted that. As the baby squirmed his way down the couch, he found a loose sheet of paper on the coffee table and drew his father's two kanji. "Toichi," he read out, so Conan would know how it was meant to sound.

"Ah, we have a kanji in common," Conan said, said, pointing to 'ichi' -- the simple horizontal line that meant 'one' or 'first' or 'best'. He sounded weirdly strangled, though; Kaito peered at him.

"Hm?"

Conan avoided his eyes. "... That's a good kanji to have in a name. Basic. Solid. Kind of ... simple, but proud. Don't you think so?"

"Conan. Tantei-kun. _Kudo_."

Conan held out another three seconds under Kaito's long, expectant stare.

"...Also I'm not writing my child's name with a kanji that means 'thief'! I can't believe your predecessor had it in his own, did he get it changed for irony's sake?"

Kaito had wondered too, back in the day, yet hearing it like that, with such disbelief, it stung a bit.

"I figure it was just destiny," he replied, and didn't quite manage to sound casual.

The baby was fussing again. He peered at him, trying to guess the issue.

"He's bored. Just put him down on the carpet."

Kaito followed Conan's advice without a word.

Conan shifted beside him until their poses mirrored each other, elbows on their knees, hands linked, and Kaito briefly wondered if Conan was also staring blankly at the child, who played with an empty plastic bottle and didn't pay either of them any attention.

"Sorry. I'm..." Conan paused, briefly. "Not in the best headspace at the moment."

Kaito sneaked him a glance, Conan was still staring ahead, grim and broody. "That's understandable--"

"So," he interrupted. "I'm sorry. Didn't notice you weren't either."

Kaito blinked at him.

"You play the happy-go-lucky enthusiast too damn well," Conan groused.

"I am nothing if not a showman, Tantei-kun," slipped out of his mouth smooth and smug, automatic. He winced the next second, mask falling. "I'm... not entirely pretending. I _am_ happy. It's done, it's over, they're falling like a house of cards. And I'm free, and I have -- heh. Babies are good for the soul, I guess. No, hey, don't eat that!"

He picked up the little brat hurriedly. Conan leaned in and slipped a finger past his gums to get the bottle cap out, eyes a little wide, a little alarmed.

"Aw, hell." Kaito winced as the baby wailed a protest. "I really need to figure out how to childproof the house."

Conan threw the damp cap in the wastebasket, and moved the wastebasket to the coffee table, safely out of reach. "You need a baby pen."

"A baby prison? Cruel!"

"It'll be good practice for his daring escapes," Conan said with affected weariness. "Give you a taste of what the other side has to deal with."

Kaito chuckled, a real spark of amusement. "How awful, I've become the Establishment."

"Heh. You'll forgive me if I don't commiserate too hard."

Kaito let the wriggling baby cross the divide to Conan's lap as revenge.

Conan went tense all over, half fascination and half nerves, arms going up stiffly to make sure the baby didn't tumble down. Kaito tilted his head and peered at him. Funny how calm and controlled his movements were when taking out that cap out of the baby's mouth, and yet the second he had to hold him on his lap...

"I don't think I've seen you nervous before." A thoughtful pause. Well, not in the field. In more personal situations, though... "Apart from the times I was impersonating you around Mouri-chan, that is."

"Oh, shut up." A sigh, as Conan relaxed cautiously, staring down at the tiny hand pressed into his palm. "I'm not nervous," he said quietly.

His eyes screamed it, utterly incredulous; how could anything -- anyone -- be so small, so frail, so easily breakable?

"I'm... To be frank, I'm--"

Terrified. "Yeah," Kaito agreed quietly, before Conan managed to make himself say it out loud.

"It's not that I'm not used to my life plans suddenly being made obsolete by now, but..." Conan closed his eyes briefly. "One of my cases ending badly, I expected. Getting shot or shoved off a skyscraper or buried alive in a tomb, yes, okay..."

Kaito couldn't help but let out a short burst of laughter. Conan gave him a wry half-smirk.

"Of course deep down like all stupid teenagers I never fully believed it would happen to _me_ , but it was still on the list of possibilities. Poisoned, forced undercover -- alright, so the part where I was turned into a _kid_ was a little more _out there_ than what I was expecting, but..."

"That's because you have no imagination, Tantei-kun." Conan inched a little closer and elbowed him. Kaito rubbed his side with a wounded expression, and kept going. "No artistry. No _soul_ \--"

"Oh, I'll show you my _soul_. Don't forget I know where you sleep now."

Kaito gave him a positively shocked look, while laughing himself breathless inside. "Why, Tantei-kun, I didn't think our acquaintance had progressed quite that far yet. Then again, we do have a little family of our own already..."

The stare Conan sent him then was no doubt trying to convey his impending doom if he dared to keep going in that vein, but what it conveyed was mostly the kind of wild-eyed panic that always looked to him like an invitation.

" ... That was putting the cart before the horse, wasn't it," he said, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Conan huffed his annoyance, the tip of his ears going red. "You're assuming there's going to be a cart. Or a horse."

Kaito opened his mouth.

"And _no_ jokes about your -- _proportions_."

"Tantei-kun!" he replied, mock-offended. "I would _never_... be that predictable."

Conan managed to glare darkly for another two seconds, after which his lips quirked up, and no matter how tightly he pinched them together, he was snickering in very short order. Kaito grinned, pleased.

It was nice that his co-parent could appreciate his sense of humor. Because otherwise he'd probably drive said parent to murder, and Tantei-kun had in his head the unabridged Encyclopedia Britannica of How To Get Away With It, illustrated.

"It's not where I expected to be either," Kaito admitted quietly, after the laughter had died down and the smiles faded. "I can't say that I mind, though. It's..."

He paused to gather his thoughts, find words that fit them. It was important that Conan -- Shinichi -- get it. It was alright if no one really did, but Shinichi...

"I didn't mind that I'd be going to prison. It would have been a fitting price. I... minded about the people I'd hurt... disappoint... the life I'd leave behind... but those were necessary sacrifices. It's not a worthwhile sacrifice if it isn't a _loss_ , if it doesn't hurt." He stared down at his hands. "It's a hurt I caused to myself, though, not like the one they forced on me. Cleansing, in a way."

He blinked, chuckled, trying to find distancing humor again. Strange mood. A bit too bare, too deep.

Conan was watching him, and he looked like he understood.

"... Anyway. For me, this still marks the start of a new life, because I'd given up the old one the night I became the Kaitou Kid. I was just... delaying letting go. It was going to end yesterday, no matter what. But I understand none of it was a choice for you and your circumstances are very different, so--"

"I'll babysit," Conan interrupted him. "I can do that much, even like this."

Babysitting wasn't the same as parenting, but Kaito couldn't realistically expect a lot of guys his age to be as family-oriented as he was, especially ones in Kudo's situation, and even divorced couples had at least the benefit of having been involved with each other beforehand; it had to be awkward to raise children together with mere acquaintances. "He's a little younger than your Shounen Tantei were, but I suppose that's still valuable experience for the position," he allowed, covering up disappointment. A mock-thoughtful pause. "Although, considering what you guys got up to, maybe I should be worried."

Conan snorted. " _This_ one, I can pick up and drag out of trouble."

"Yeah?" Kaito gave the wriggly bottom disappearing at the corner of the couch a pointed look.

Swearing, Conan hit the carpet and crawled after him under the catch-all table.

Kaito grinned and reclined in the couch. "Ahh, it's so lucky you were the one who caught up with me yesterday after all. You're just the right size to follow him in his boltholes. What would I do without a pocket-sized co-parent?"

"I'm not sure," Conan grunted back, "but it would likely involve a lot more tracking doves and silly putty traps than the other housewives."

Kaito was entertained enough by the idea of training his doves to herd people into silly putty traps that it took him a second to catch the rest.

"... Touché, tinytantei. Touché." He draped himself over the arm of the couch, peering through the gap between it and the table. Conan was attempting to tickle the baby into letting go of one of the legs. "So if I am the housewife, does that make you the breadwinner? Going out every day and braving the big bad business world, only to come home to those closest to his heart... Oh, my strong little salaryman." 

Conan craned his neck so he could glare at him through the gap, and promptly got kitten-thwapped in the chin by a delighted baby.

"Alas so far we are nothing but struggling young mother and her babydaddy. When, but _when_ will you put a ring on my finger?"

"If you really insist on a 'chained to you' symbolism, I've got this pair of handcuffs..."

Kaito snickered, and pretended he hadn't seen Conan's very entertaining shudder at the 'babydaddy' mention. "Mm. Kinky."

Conan crawled out, cradling the squirming child against his chest, and sat heavily on the floor, mock-glowering at the dark little head. Not that the baby cared, fascinated by the red of his socks.

"... We'll have to work out a way to share the expenses," he said, growing pensive. "Though I'm not sure how to explain babysitting to complement my allowance and yet never having anything to show for it."

Kaito shrugged, still draped over the arm of the couch and starting to ooze across the table. "I do have a job of my own. Pays well, too. You're off the hook for a few years."

"Huh. A day job?"

"Yep. A legal one, even."

Conan looked curious, so Kaito told him.

"... You're kidding me."

"Nope."

"You're _kidding me_. You're a _freelance security consultant_? That's --" He stopped talking, making a weird grimace halfway between exasperated disgust and reluctant admiration. "... That sounds pretty appropriate, actually. If you can't break in, no one can."

Kaito raked a hand through his hair and threw Conan a winning smile. "Please feel free to flatter me more."

"... Stop preening already."

"Ababapbbphththt. Aaaaaee! Ee."

"Truly?" Kaito inquired, regarding the baby with all due seriousness.

Another very determined squeal. The baby was tugging Conan's decorative pants laces free of their eyelets.

"Papa, you should know that laces and ropes are the tools of the oppressor," Kaito translated diligently. Conan rolled his eyes at him.

"Nuuu-EH!"

"Victory! Victory shall be ours, comrades! Throw off these shackles and be free!"

"You're a total loon, you know that, right?"

"Us Kuroba are like that." Kaito gave a sad, sad nod. "You know, in case you felt seized by the need to marry into the family, I swear it's not contagious." A pause, a look of slowly mounting doubt... "I mean, I'm pretty sure mom was _already_..."

"Oh god, stop it. You're ridiculous." But Conan was laughing, as hard as he tried not to. The baby looked up at his face and squeaked happily, and dragged himself up on wobbly legs with little hands gripping his shirt. Conan kept him steady, his hands going around his back, eyes softening. "Hey there. You'll be walking pretty soon, won't you. We should probably bell you before it's too late."

"Eiiiii. DaadadadaNNN."

"Father, I am offended that you might suggest such a thing, but your nose looks delicious, so I shall forgive you. Om nom nom."

Conan cracked up again. Kaito grinned a little wider. "Damn it, you're dangerous. Stop making me laugh! There's all those -- okay, and _you_ stop slobbering on me -- all those things to figure out -- ow, ow, claws, cannibal--"

Kaito decided to be generous; he got up from his seat and picked up the baby from behind, where his sharp little nails couldn't reach no matter how hard he flailed. "You thought I was joking. Who's laughing now? -- Oh, hey, _cannibal_. That'd make a fine name."

"Right! Let me think about -- _no_."

Chuckling, Kaito sat on the floor, and released the hound. The baby was really excited by now, trilling and waving his hands everywhere. He watched him for a long moment, unable to stop smiling.

Conan wasn't smiling, anymore. It had melted away, into... Kaito wasn't sure, worry or melancholy or something else. He sobered up, brow furrowing in question.

"I don't think I compartmentalize as well as you do," Conan said abruptly -- not like an accusation, though, more of an assessment, one that wasn't entirely in his own favor.

"... Because I'm laughing?"

"Mnh." Conan speared him with one of his penetrating looks. "You're still not alright, aren't you. You just... Not pretend, it's not the right word." He gestured vaguely, somewhat like throwing something inconsequential over his shoulder. "Never mind. You're having fun. You were having fun during the heists too. But you were still angry."

He must have read something in Kaito's face, even though the poker face had slammed down without conscious input.

"No, it's the other way around. You were angry, but you had fun anyway."

"Where are you going with this, Tantei-kun?"

"... Sorry. I like to analyze. Sometimes it gets away from me." A deep breath. "I'm still upset. It's not the baby. I don't know what the hell we must be thinking to keep him -- an ex-international jewel thief and a de-aged amateur detective, both male, not even involved, that is so not a stable, normal household -- but it's not _that_ either. That we can fix, or deal with, whatever. It's... just an easier thing to be upset about."

Kaito blinked, once, twice. The honesty in his words was so raw, so open it made Kaito uncomfortable in turn; but it was a gift, too, one he couldn't turn away without making it an insult, without breaking the fragile rapport they had built.

"...Tell me."

"It's nothing you couldn't figure out, I'm sure." Conan gave a deprecating laugh. "It's stupid, but subconsciously I think I believed that once they were gone I could just go and take my old life back. Everything would just fall into place. I'd win, and I'd get myself back as a prize."

Kaito didn't say anything. He just listened, petting the baby to calm him down, keep him from interrupting.

"I should at least be happy because the Black Org is going down." Conan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, massaged his temples in long, hard circles. "I'm not happy. Vindicated at best."

"Revenge will do that," Kaito replied quietly. "It's not a nice form of satisfaction."

Conan grunted his agreement, fingers still pressing on his skull as if desperately trying to relax a tension that wasn't physical in the first place. "I guess. There's that. But it doesn't make Haibara magically figure out a cure. She's been looking for seven years," he added, and bit down on the rest of his words, though Kaito knew where the chain of logic ended. Maybe she hadn't found it because it wasn't possible, would never be.

They sat in silence for a little bit longer. The baby was making nonsensical noises as he investigated Conan's laces once again.

"I still don't feel that it's really over. Because it's _not_ over. I'm still --" He waved at his own body. "And _you_." He glared at Kaito, taking him by surprise; after a second Kaito determined that the glare wasn't entirely serious, but still peeved enough. "I spend ages and ages -- years! -- amassing info and coordinating people behind the scenes, and then you breeze in toward the end and provide the missing links, meanwhile I'm punted off the official Org investigation because it's too dangerous for a kid, and then afterwards I can't even go around looking for small fry because I have friggin' _school_."

Kaito bit his lip to keep from laughing, and then laughed a little anyway, though it was more rueful and sympathetic than amused. "I doubt our esteemed friends at Interpol managed to run such a well-coordinated assault that none of them slipped the net. You'll have work for a while yet."

"Haa... yeah." Conan leaned back on his hands, relaxing enough to flick him a poor half-smile. "Listen to me. I swear it's the teenage hormones. Soon I'll be singing that no one understands the pain I'm in." He managed a faint smirk when Kaito chuckled at the poor joke.

"Oh, Tantei-kun, I'm sure you have a very pretty singing v--"

"I don't," Conan interrupted, grimacing. "I really, really don't. Don't make me prove it to you if you don't want your pigeons to drop dead on the spot."

"... I'll remember not to challenge you on that point."

They didn't laugh, just exchanged a smile -- a weird one, small, almost tentative. No masks, no distracting humor. Just 'hey, here I am. I kinda think maybe I can trust you.' Kaito thought he liked that. It had him quietly terrified, but it was nice, too -- not comfortable, but good anyway.

"So." Conan broke eye contact, scratched his neck. "... We can use the Tou kanji if you wanna."

\--oh. For the name. Kaito's little smile grew; he had to look away too. "Heh. Nah, it's okay. It's neat that both of you share that Ichi, so let's go with that. Ichiro?"

"First son?" Conan retorted a beat too late, though the quirked eyebrow looked casual enough. "Are you planning on us having more anytime soon?"

"There's a joke here about sparing my girlish figure..." At Conan's mock-tired look, he relented, though his voice stayed light and ironic. "Anyway. Junichi, Kenichi, Kouichi... Hm. Kuroba Kenichi doesn't sound so great."

Conan shrugged. "We want a name that sounds normal, right? Not Akuma or Tenshimaru or something ridiculous like that, but apart from that? Might as well choose from the phone book."

Kaito mock-glared.

"Alright, maybe a baby naming site."

Conan was almost thwapped in the face when the baby suddenly managed to yank the lace free and it whipped up. "Eeeeeeeiiii! Iiiiii! Aiinnnhgah. Eiiii."

"Pff. I triumph! My rightful prey --"

"Shyeah right. He sounds like a boiling teapot --" And suddenly, the 'aha!' look. "Ei-chan?"

The baby turned his head to look at Conan. Probably a coincidence. Probably just the tone of his voice.

"Eiiii-chan?" Kaito repeated, testing. The baby turned his way and waved his hands up, lace and all. Kaito started grinning.

"Eiichi? Huh, why not. "

"Which kanji for 'ei'?" Kaito slid the dictionary off the table, propped the heavy weight on his knee, and started turning pages. "'England' -- no. 'Flourishing', that's banal. 'Pride' too. 'Swim' -- hahaha _no_."

"Why not?"

Yeah, like he was going to mention the scaly horrors. He might trust Conan with his freedom and his son, but not his fragile, fragile soul. " _No reason_." He flipped several pages in quick succession to cut off that line of conversation. "Aha! I bet you were thinking either 'intelligence' or 'cleverness.' Tssk. Hoping he'll follow in your footsteps, Tantei-kun?"

Conan heaved a long sigh and shifted closer, so he could see the kanji dictionary too. Kaito obligingly angled it, and allowed Conan to wrangled curious little hands away from thin paper.

"Heh! This one means sparkle-of-jewelry, or crystal. Considering how he was born it's kind of perfect."

"Also likely to get him teased to within an inch of his life." Kaito made a dispirited face; Conan relented. "...Keep it for private use. We don't want to risk someone who shouldn't to read too much into it."

"... Good point. So, clever or intelligent... The two really are rather different when you think about it."

"Clever."

Kaito grinned at Conan's quick reply, which just so happened to be the same as his own. " _Definitely_ clever. If we're going to curse him with awesome just from being born we might as well do it right. And cleverness gets you into a lot more messes than just simple boring intelligence."

"If you're lucky it even gets you out."

They were going to make an _awesome_ comic duo. By the time the kid was old enough to understand sarcasm they might have this thing smooth and practiced enough to get him to explode from sheer embarrassment with a single quirk of the eyebrow.

If he explained the reason of his shark grin to Conan before he wore him down a bit more, though, the detective was liable to run off with the kid in the mistaken notion that he was doing little Ei-chan a favor by rescuing him. Who needed sanity, seriously.

The baby belly-flopped on the dictionary. Pages crunched. Conan rolled his eyes and pulled it free, so that the baby ended up wedged between them; he of course immediately started whining and trying to crawl backward out of that devious trap. Kaito snickered.

"So. At last, he is named." He rested his hand on his head, ruffling up that fine dark hair until the Conan-like cowlick was lost in a mass of Kaito-spikes. "Kuroba Eiichi."

Conan elbowed his arm aside and smoothed it back down, sneaking Kaito a haughty sidelong look. "If his track record is anything like ours I bet you by the time he's sixteen we'll all be calling him something else."

Kaito gave a long, philosophical sigh, and propped his elbow on Conan's shoulder. "By that time hopefully he'll have learned to forge his own papers."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Kuroba Eiichi Files](https://archiveofourown.org/works/804845) by [joisbishmyoga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joisbishmyoga/pseuds/joisbishmyoga)




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